Curses

We use them like curses

Cut away the gauze

Make you Think

Scream at

Your face

Shatter that facade

Don't smile at me

With your plastic eyes

Glazed

Your bubblegum countenance

Is like dried cum stains

You say nothing

Despite incessant chatter

Driving Us mad

Like the buzzing of flies

We use our Words

To break your System

Hack this

Our curses fly

Straight arrows

Bleed you dry

El Grito

There are somedays living in the Last Bastion of White America when I, surrounded by homogeneity in Powells or my favourite café, want to scream.
Just scream, a note.
Not a word, just a noise.


In this phonetically simple sound, would be reflected my frustration (admittedly sometimes hatred) of what society has created around me. Perhaps I should leave? Some do, some say. However, fleeing does not solve the problem. I would rather enfrentar las cosas con un par de cojones.

Like H. said to me, "If you ignore the problem then it becomes normalized for you."

This shit ain't normal.

What happens to a city once it loses its soul?